


Offered Freely

by starstuddedsin



Category: Original Work
Genre: (Non-fetishized) hand amputation, Boypussy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Forced Prostitution, Incest, M/M, Mentions of child sexual abuse, Painful Sex, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstuddedsin/pseuds/starstuddedsin
Summary: The king puts his crazy, treacherous brother in an insane asylum. The asylum knows just what to do with the traitor.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 16
Kudos: 178





	Offered Freely

The Senate demanded Etanin kill his brother.

Riven had earned far worse. He was wildly deceitful. He had heaped ignominy on their father, the old king, and backed the grasslands rebels who would have destroyed the fragile imperial peace Etanin had worked so hard to build. Riven had even tried to kill Etanin himself numerous times. He had sent assassins after the trueborn heir, worked wicked magic on his bodyguards. Had his forces lay waste to Etanin's cities, all to get at the rightful prince.

Riven, unlike Etanin, was illegitimate. A bastard. An arrogant one, who thought his age should have merited him the throne, never mind that he hadn't been borne of a normal human woman. His mother had been a _Revikki_ , a dual-gendered, forked-tongued, inhuman enchantrix. A pretty monster that had tried to kill the king and been beaten, subdued, and set for execution until the old king in his mercy had decided to keep the beast. Keep it and use it, chopping off its hands to contain its magic, but also collaring it with a gold collar. Letting it live in the airiest and prettiest palace tower. Letting it live long enough for a pretty, slightly more human monster to be born. 

_Revikki_ were vicious, but Riven's mother had been properly subdued in the end. A born slave, asking for the king's favor. Offering herself freely. Offering sweetly enough to have won Riven a proper place at court.

For Riven was human-seeming on the surface, and a man by the grace of his father's decree. But he was not fit to rule. Beneath his clothes he was as perversely-formed as the inhuman that had carried him. He was to be his human brother's servant, and Etanin, who had always worshipped his lovely elder brother, had thought that Riven would want to protect him forever.

"The _Revikki_ are mad, unreasoning, evil creatures," said Senator Wrutte now. "It was predetermined that this... _demon_ should do you harm, my king. We begged your father, begged and begged, for him to put it down. To avoid this. But now it is time. Surely you will have the strength to do what your father cannot."

But Etanin could not. He knew Riven was mad. They all knew it. That made killing Riven all the more unjust. Riven had not chosen to hurt him. Riven had been unable to help it. He was, as the Senator said, little more than an animal following irrational animal instincts.

"Very well," said Senator Wrutte. "Then -- then he will have to be treated as one treats the criminally mad. Bound away. My brother-in-law, he has an asylum in Santurias, my king, not an hour's ride from here. It most mercifully escaped the worst of the devastation, for Santurias is tucked into the mountains. Remote. Calm. And difficult to escape as well. Cardin hosts a number of poor souls who went insane at the Revikki magic turned upon them. It would be...poetic, if not precisely fair, to permit your majesty's brother a place there as well, I suppose."

The Senator was a tall, beaky-nosed man, with a cold demeanor that Etanin had never quite warmed to. But Etanin believed him fair, and was pleased at the offer. 

"The poetry will hopefully please some of your fellows--" he tried. "Riven is so mad now he cannot hurt anyone anymore, you see--"

Senator Wrutte held up a hand.

"Do not think of pleasing us," he said. "You are the king. And _we_ are not traitors. You did not ask to have a beast for a brother, my lord. We understand that."

"Thank you," Etanin said gratefully.

So it was decided. Riven would live, live and go into exile. Hopefully in a place that knew how to deal with him, with his sightless blue-violet eyes and his strange mutterings.

When Etanin went to break the news to him, he was writhing about on the floor of the dungeons, writhing as well as he could beneath his chains. He did not seem to recognize Etanin.

To defeat him, it had taken twenty men. Twenty falling on him, breaking his ribs and making bruises blossom across his high cheekbones. One of his eyes was still swollen shut. His hands were tightly wrapped, for they had been broken. They'd had to break the hands. They were the tools of a sorcerer, and thus dangerous. Etanin had declined to have them cut off, deciding instead that Riven would be managed by persistent dosing with Ululate Flower.

A coarse, ugly little weed. But it suppressed magic, and made the dosed person pliable. That had meant Riven calmed down enough that Etanin could have someone bind his ribs and put salve on his bruises, before they got the chains on him.

Now Riven only whimpered when Etanin put a hand to his face.

"You're mad," Etanin told him gently. "I forgive you. It's not your fault. I forgive you, brother. And don't worry. I'm sending you somewhere safe."

Riven shook his head, unaware and uncomprehending. He opened his mouth.

"No, no, wrong, th'bad, they're _bad_ , man is wicked, man does cruelty, no, no, _no_ \--"

And on and on, all the true madness of a grasslands _Revikki_. 

Though there were guards watching, even there in the dark of the dungeon, Etanin could not help but to sob at this. His brother, his Riven--

Gone. Clearly. 

An asylum would be the best place for him.

-

They put him in a little room, and when he thrashed and screamed and fought being tied to the metal cot, they pressed more of the crushed flower dust to his mouth.

It _burned_ going in. Burned up his magic. Riven could feel it. Could feel how it made his mind blurry at the edges, too. The pain in his ribs fell away, and in his hands. He went limp.

He barely processed the cold of his new shackles. Nor the knife that _snicked_ down his dirty shirt and trousers. His clothing was cut off of him. He blinked at this.

Burning. His magic was being burned out of him. The process made him woozy.

The men stripped him and left him to shiver on the thin cot. He moved weakly, trying to stop the burning. But he couldn't stop it. And now he was welcoming it, welcoming the way the colors of the room -- the muted blue walls, the brown wood pane of the very small window set up so high -- were all running into each other.

A weight on the cot. Heavy. He blinked again.

A stout man was between his bare legs. Rubbing his thighs. Rubbing up, up.

"Look at this," the man chortled. His thick fingers played the plump outer folds of Riven's cunt. 

Riven blinked. The man was not supposed to be doing that. No one was supposed to be doing that. That was a sacred place, the grasslands people had taught him. That was a place not to be defiled, that was always theirs to offer freely, _freely_ , not like the old king had taken it from Riven, from Riven's mother--

The man slapped it. Hard. Riven jerked, the pain hitting his dazed, surprised brain. Jerking made his cock bounce (to be offered _freely_ ) and now the man had a cruel fat hand on that. Twisting it, making Riven whine. 

The man forced something down to the base. Tight. Riven tried to jerk out of the way, weakly, as he realized what this was. His cock, it was in such pain now. He couldn't think. It was going flushed, going numb with the pain. 

It was leaking, too. A leak that was to no purpose. That tight little noose on his cock -- it would keep him from feeling pleasure. Riven tried to curse his rage, but all that came out was guttural nonsense, the nonsense of the Ululate Flower.

"-- _bad_ , they do to you, they hurt, man is bad, they hurt you--"

"We sure do," grunted the man. His thick fingers pulled back Riven's outer lips. One pressed along the vulnerable slit there. Riven was dry and frightened, trying to get away still. Squirming, hearing the clink of his chains, the sound bleeding into the frightened breaths he was letting out.

"You burned my horse stables, you know," the man grunted. "You freed my slaves, too. There aren't enough slaves left in the markets you attacked to replace the ones you spirited away. A lot of money you lost me. But at least now you'll give something back."

A rustle. The belt coming off. Riven looked at the thick, stubby cock that emerged. He knew what was happening, but he didn't know. Couldn't put it together. Couldn't think. The Flower was clouding up his mind.

The man rubbed something into him, cold and slippery. Riven could only say, "No, no, no, _no_ \--"

The man laughed again.

"Oh, don't worry. I won't give you too much. You're going to feel this fuck, you little twat."

Riven shook his head jerkily, kept up his babbling protest, trying to get past the Flower. But the finger in his cunt was stabbing in now, not gentle at all. He broke off into whines. He hurt. Distantly, he knew he would hurt more.

The man's heavy body settled on his, crushing him. There was a hard press at his cunt. It was fleshy and hot, and Riven remembered it from the king. From what the king would do. He cried out, tensing--

Bad idea. Tense made it worse when the cock pressed in. Pain and shame fogged up Riven's mind. The hard cock was prying him open. He cried on it. The man laughed.

"That's right, bitch," he said. "That's right. Get used to it. I'm going to make back every penny you cost me."

His thrusts were rough. Riven was jerking on them. The man slapped his face twice, seemingly just for fun. But then he calmed that down.

"Can't -- hurt -- you-- where-- the -- king -- will -- see," he said, fucking in-out at every word. Fast. Riven thought he must be bleeding. He was crying hard now, snot leaking down his nose. His cunt hurt. It hurt so much. The Flower made pain go away, but the man was trying and succeeding at making enough pain that even the Flower couldn't help with it. 

His hand was on Riven's ass now. Mauling him, twisting the flesh. Then slapping again. Hard. The other hand dug into Riven's hip, the nails leaving crescent moons of blood that Riven fixated on. He had stopped making sounds because he couldn't get them out. The thick cock was churning him up so bad. He could only take it.

Like he had always had to take it.

When the man was done, Riven's hole was so sore. It was bright red and hurting. The thick cock came out with a plop. A trail of cum followed, linking it to Riven's hurt cunt. There was cum in him too. Cum Riven didn't want. He was crying at this still, shoulders shaking.

The man used Riven's long white-blonde hair to wipe his cock off. Leave more cum tangled in it. 

He stood and pulled up his trousers again. Before he left, he reached down and squeezed Riven's little, barely-there tit. Hard. 

"Good thing you're a barren mongrel, bitch. Because you'll be taking a lot of use."

Riven knew this was wrong. He tried to say so, tried to explain about the geranium tea. Geranium didn't cloud him. Didn't stop up magic. Only stopped -- stopped the belly swelling. That was why the old king had always forced him to drink it. But he couldn't take it with Ululate at the same time. The two didn't interact right. 

"No, no, _no_ \--" he sobbed out, but the man was going, leaving him lying there in the cold cum and blood, in the locked little room with the metal cot.

-

It took a few months for his belly to swell. 

He was lucky that they didn't catch on. That they assumed him barren, and weren't watching how his stomach rounded out even as his limbs went thin and wasted. 

And _he_ didn't report it to them.

Every time they fed him, they gave him more of the Flower.

Too much. So much his head swam. He would be dizzy whenever they undid his manacles and pulled him off the bed. He would land hard on the floor, facing the two metal bowls they put under the bed.

One for his piss and shit. He would be shaky as a colt when they forced him to sit on it. 

The other bowl for his food. They would make him kneel. Put a heavy boot on his head.

"Eat, puppy," they would say.

Like a dog. The food always smelled bad. Rotten. Riven's stomach would revolt. But they would grind his head into the bowl until, sobbing, he would eat. Sour, mushy bread with rot on it. Not right. He would always eat a little bit and hope that would be enough, and when the foot on his head would come off he would be relieved. 

But not for long. 

No one could hurt him where Etanin would see. But everyone _could_ hurt him. Their cocks would rub, cold and hard and slimy, against the sensitive skin of his thigh. He would whimper and beg, let out his song of madness. Strain and try to move away. 

Sometimes they'd grab him by the hair and pull. Sometimes they'd push his shoulders down to the cold floor, making him cry out. Sometimes they'd step on his broken hands, to hear him shriek. 

By then there would be a cock at his mouth, too.

The length at his thighs would be prodding at his sore cunt. 

"Spread that bitch's legs wider," someone would grunt, and there would be rough hands on his thighs. 

The first thrust was always too hard, with no preparation. Riven's foggy mind would slice into pain. He'd be gibbering, begging. He'd usually feel a heavy form climb over his back, settle into place over him. Then a second cock prodding at his sensitive little asshole.

Then two thrusting in at once. Pain and pain and pain and pain. Riven making pitiful sounds around the third cock in his mouth, over the sloppy sounds of men using his own blood to tear him open.

Sometimes his cock would twitch, when by accident the cock in his ass would hit his prostate. 

He'd blink, and feel his teary eyes tear up further. Take in painful breaths through his nose, around the rancid prick thrusting past his sore jaws. 

It was a little hint of good feeling, and the Flower would make him want to chase it. His hips would start to move of their own account.

One of the men might chuckle then. Stroke his hair.

"That's it, cunt," they'd say, and something in Riven would break.

By the time his stomach swelled, all the somethings in him had broken. He was just a giggling cunt.

Whenever Etanin visited, he would be cleaned, and the room would be cleaned. Sometimes his new owner, the asylum owner, would make Riven lick the floor, even, so that it would shine for his brother the king. Then he would have a thick, long gown and a soft cloth gag put on him before he was manacled to the bed.

"It is better that your majesty not hear his madness," they always told Etanin, while Riven blinked and giggle-sobbed beneath the gag.

But they didn't count on Etanin always wanting to embrace him. Etanin _feeling_ the strange bump of his stomach.

"What the fuck?" the king said.

-

By the time Riven was really fat with child, his breasts sore and swollen, he was away from the asylum. 

They had cut off his hands. That was for the safety and comfort of his brother the king. So they didn't need to dose him with the Flower anymore.

The Flower had done its work on him, anyway.

In the prettiest and airiest tower, far above the grasslands, he grew another animal bastard. He would sing and giggle to himself, rubbing his golden collar and belly with the stumps of his hands. Trying to tug off his tits.

He had nurses who were kinder now. He thought Etanin must have killed the asylum owner, and the men who had used him. But he didn't think that very often. He found it hard, after months of the Flower, to really think.

More often he moved on instinct. Etanin came to see him every day now. And now Riven knew that everything the grasslands people had taught him was wrong. Riven had no sacred places. Riven was a bitch-puppy-cunt-mongrel. 

"Man uses you," he explained to himself. "Fuck your cunt. Give your cunt, bitch."

Whenever Etanin came up the tower stair, and he heard his brother's characteristic stomping tread, he would get up painfully, his belly too heavy. Kneel by the bed and lean forwards, resting his forehead on the soft covers. Use his worthless stumps to pull up his gown as best he could. Spread his legs.

Greet his brother with the well-used flower of his cunt. If he had had hands, he would have been pulling back the outer lips with his fingers. 

Like the old king had always liked. 

Etanin hadn't used him yet. It worried Riven. He didn't want his brother touching the mongrel in his belly. 

But instead of fucking him, Etanin would kneel next to him, tears in his eyes, and pat his hair. And Riven would say, "Please f-fuck me," and mouth at the bulge in his brother's fine trousers.

He bet it would be just like the old king's. Hard, long, and thick, resting in a bed of dark hair. He'd giggle, thinking of how stupid he was to have resisted that. He would take it now if Etanin would only use him and not the baby.

" _Please_ ," he'd hum out. "Man hurt me, please. Fuck me, please. P-please use me--"

Etanin had the old king's dark eyes, but they were kinder. Riven's cunt would be wet to see that, his cock waking up. He'd wriggle his hips. 

"No," Etanin would say, voice heavy with emotion. "No, Riven. I--I did this to you. I permitted you to become this. But I won't do to you what others did--"

Their father. Riven would shake his head. This wasn't like that. This time, he was even more powerless, but he was smarter, too. He wasn't so pathetic as to think himself a human who might someday be accepted into the court. He wasn't even so pathetic as to think himself a _Revikki_ who deserved to be free.

He was a mad little twat, well-used and collared. His belly was fat with a baby like him, and he had a duty to it. So Etanin wouldn't have to coax and berate and threaten, like the old king had.

This time, Riven was offering it freely.

**Author's Note:**

> Ages ago there was a FF9 fic with this exact plot, minus the pregnancy and rescue. The hosting site eventually deleted that fic as part of a purge against explicit works. I miss that fic every day.


End file.
